


The Witcher's Bond

by tupti



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Explicit Consent, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Touching, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier moisturises, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Boys, Soulmates, Touch-Starved, seriously our boys share like half a brain cell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tupti/pseuds/tupti
Summary: It takes Yennefer to notice that Jaskier hasn’t aged. She proposes a theory why that might be the case…
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 43
Kudos: 1168





	The Witcher's Bond

‘He hasn’t changed much, has he?’

Yennefer observed Jaskier thoughtfully, while she nipped on her ale.

Geralt grunted. ‘What did you expect?’

‘No, I mean, physically. He hasn’t _aged_. He looks like when I last saw him which must have been … what? … ten years back by now.’

It had been.

After much to-ing and fro-ing and hurt feelings on all sides, Geralt and Yen had parted ways as friends. They came to an understanding: It was better for either of them if they didn’t see too much of each other. Meeting now and again was fine, catching up, hearing what the other was up to. And ten years truly went by in a heartbeat, considering both their life spans.

Geralt tilted his head and squinted his eyes to look Jaskier up and down. The bard was entertaining his audience, basking in their attention and very much enjoying himself. Yen and him on the other hand had sought out the darkest and most secluded corner the inn had to offer to nurse their ales and talk.

‘I mean, how old is he?’ Yen asked. ‘Like, seventy?’

Geralt snorted. ‘Don’t let him hear you say that.’ But he had to admit, he wasn’t exactly sure. At some point he must have lost count. ‘More fifty-ish, I think.’

‘Yes, well, humans.’ Yen sighed. ‘Sometimes I can hardly tell them apart. They appear and flicker and are gone again. So distracting.’

Geralt huffed and took another sip of his ale. She didn’t need to remind him how fleeting human life was. Just the thought of one day losing Jaskier…

But she wouldn’t let it go. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, eyes still glued to the bard. ‘No, but seriously, Geralt. He doesn’t look fifty, not even close. More like thirty, thirty-five maybe. Look at him!’

He deliberately kept his gaze down. ‘I see him all the time, Yen, I wouldn’t know.’

‘Yeah, you two are really lumping together, aren’t you?’

He furrowed his brow. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

She shrugged. ‘I just thought you’d get tired of him at some point. I mean, you picked the most annoying being of the whole continent to be your travel companion. You! Of all people.’

‘He’s not _that_ annoying,’ Geralt mumbled into his ale.

‘He is loud, he’s outrageous, he is…’ She hesitated. ‘Everything you’re not.’ Now she regarded Geralt with the same intensity she had previously dedicated to the bard. ‘But maybe that’s just what you need.’

‘Hmm.’

Geralt could feel his cheeks heating up and bowed down deeper over his tankard. Alas, hiding from Yen’s sharp eyes proved impossible.

‘You’re blushing!’ She gasped, then grinned. ‘Witcher, dear, is this more than friendship? Are you… in love?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You are! By the gods, you’ve fallen for the little lark!’ Her eyes glinted with barely contained amusement. “How couldn’t I see it before? You are head over heels. You want to be missus Julian Alfred Pankratz!’

‘Stop it!’

Geralt slammed his tankard on the table. A few heads turned towards them.

‘Stop it,’ the witcher insisted more quietly. ‘We’re _not_ discussing this.’

‘So you don’t deny it.’

He took another big gulp of ale and wished he could just creep into his cup and drown out all the noise.

He startled, when Yen gently bumped his shoulder with hers ‘Sorry, that was mean. I haven’t seen you open up to someone ever since we decided we’re not good company for each other.’ She smiled sadly. ‘You deserve love, Geralt.’

‘Hmm.’

Suddenly, her eyes grew big. She sat up and took in a deep breath. ‘Oh, by the gods! Geralt! Oh, dear Melitele.’

‘What?’

‘Geralt…’

‘What is it?’

‘How long have you been in love with him?’

The witcher closed his eyes in annoyance. ‘Can we _please_ stop talking about this?’

‘No, but, Geralt! Something occurred to me.’ She cast a quick glance around as if to check that nobody was listening. ‘Have you ever heard about the Mage’s Bond?’

Geralt shook his head. ‘I’m trying to keep out of the way of mages. No offence.’

‘None taken.’ She dipped her head and lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. ‘This happens very, very rarely, because mages are not allowed to have families and such. They are not supposed to fall in love at all. When they do, they usually choose their kind or at least someone like them, someone who can command magic, someone who is their equal.’ She bit her lip. ‘It is rumoured that when a mage falls in love with a human – and I mean, really, truly, _soul-bondingly_ falls in love – that a little bit of magic trickles through that soul bond, thereby elongating the humans life span to that of the mage’s. Because soul mates are not meant to part.’

Geralt tilted his head. ‘So?’

‘So?’ Yen smiled. ‘Witchers have magic and a long life. What if it works the same for them? Only nobody’s ever heard about it, because witchers don’t usually fall in love with humans. But you, Geralt, you might have created one: A Witcher’s Bond.’

Unwittingly, Geralt’s eyes searched for Jaskier, who was leaning against a pillar, head thrown back, lost in his song. As if he sensed the witcher’s gaze, he turned towards him, smiled sweetly and winked. Geralt felt his heart flutter. _Well, fuck._

He tore his eyes off the bard. ‘Bullshit,’ he grumbled, but Yen just laughed.

‘Come on, it’s the only explanation. Unless he’s fae or something.’

“Would have smelt that.’

‘Ah.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Right, your kind does that.’

She looked at Jaskier again, then at Geralt, then at Jaskier. ‘Wait…’ Her eyes went big. ‘You said he was about fifty? And he obviously stopped ageing at least twenty years ago, which would mean… Oh, Geralt.’

He couldn’t bear the pity in her eyes. Without answering, he banged his tankard down once more and rose form his seat. ‘Good night, Yen.’

Eyes followed him as he stomped outside and slammed the door behind him.

Jaskier shot her a quizzical look, but she just shrugged her shoulders at him in what she hoped was a baffled enough expression.

  
  


Silence hung over the trio as they made their way through the forest. They had started early, much to Jaskier’s chagrin. He had had a late night, a considerable amount of ale had found its way into him and now he was hanging back, trying his best to not stumble over his own two feet. Geralt had set a brisk pace on Roach, keeping some distance to Yen on her steed. Now she closed up to him.

‘Go easy on your bard, he’s hardly following.’

Geralt grunted, but nevertheless pressed his thighs into Roach to slow her down a bit. ‘Since when do you care?’

She didn’t answer, just looked back at Jaskier and shook her head. ‘He must have noticed. I mean… You should notice when you don’t get older, as a human, shouldn’t you?’

‘I wouldn’t know. He probably thinks it’s because he moisturises.’

Geralt rolled his eyes when he thought of the bard’s elaborate skin care routine that more than once had delayed their departures. Still, he couldn’t help it: A fond smile crept on his face as he saw in his mind’s eyes how the bard stared at himself in the mirror, tongue sticking out in concentration, tinkering with pots and bottles, all the while humming to himself, testing out new lines about Geralt and the latest monster he had fought.

‘Gods, you’re smitten.’

He startled and immediately wiped the stupid smile from his face.

‘It’s not a bad thing to be in love, Geralt,’ Yen sighed. ‘And don’t you think that Jaskier should know? At some point he is bound to realise he is not ageing and it might freak him out. Better explain it to him now.’

‘He’s fine.’

‘For the time being.’

When the bard caught up with them, Yen turned towards him. ‘Jaskier, dear, you do look positively vigorous and youthful.’

He sneered, taking her attempt at drawing his attention to his looks as sarcasm. ‘Why, thank you, Yen, thank you very much. I happen to have had a very eventful night. I’m not magic, I don’t roll out of bed at the crack of dawn and look like you. I’m way past that age.’

‘I see. And what age is that?’

‘Oh, please. You don’t ask a bard his age! What, were you raised by wolves?’

She rolled her eyes and Geralt could see that she was trying very hard not to let her annoyance overcome her.

‘I’m serious though, little lark. You do look exceptionally young for someone at what I can only assume is middle age.’

‘Well,’ Jaskier bowed his head gracefully in an attempt to appear humble. ‘I do moisturise.’

Yen shot Geralt an incredulous glance, but he just shrugged his shoulders and smirked. _Called it._

He spurred Roach on, so Yen fell behind, but that didn’t stop her. A moment later she was back at his side. ‘This is going to end in disaster. He’s so fucking oblivious.’

‘Don’t underestimate him.’

‘Well, then…’

‘Look!’ Geralt interrupted her gruffly. He nudged Roach a little closer to Yen’s horse and lowered his voice. ‘What do you think will happen if I tell him? He’ll freak out and run away as fast and as far as he can. And who could blame him? But I’d…’ He swallowed hard. ‘I’d rather, he’d not.’

She looked at him with a sudden understanding in her eyes and dropped the topic after that.

  
  


As soon as they had made camp, Yen retreated into her own luxuriously equipped tent and left the two men alone at the fire. They sat in silence for a while, which was rare when Jaskier was around. By now Geralt knew that it meant the bard was musing about something he would want to discuss soon. Hopefully, he hadn’t gotten any ideas from Yen’s interference. Better not to find out. He was about to excuse himself to bed, when Jaskier finally spoke.

‘Geralt? Am I a monster?’

The witcher snorted as if Jaskier had made a joke, but his blue eyes were fixed on him and didn’t waver.

‘I’m serious. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you and Yen talking behind my back and Yen’s weird allusions to my age…’ He licked his lips nervously. ‘I don’t, do I? I don’t age. I mean, obviously I’m just very pretty and meticulous about my skin care, but… There’s only so much a lotion can do.’ His eyes searched the witcher’s. ‘I’m not stupid, Geralt. If I don’t age, it means I’m not human. And since I’m neither a mage nor a witcher… What am I, if not a monster?’

‘You’re not a monster.’

‘And how do you know?’

‘It’s my job.’

Jaskier laughed bitterly. He looked down and kicked a pebble away from him. “Right. You’d have to kill me. There are definitely people who’d pay you for that.’

Geralt grabbed the bard’s shoulder. ‘Look at me.’ Jaskier obeyed hesitantly, eyes glistening wet in the firelight. ‘You’re not a monster and I can prove it.’

He produced the medallion from under his shirt and showed it to the bard. ‘This is silver.’ Gently, he slid his fingers on Jaskier’s arm downwards, took his hand and pressed it against the cool metal. ‘If you were a monster it would burn you.’

The bard’s fingertips lay soft against his skin where they spilled over the edge of the medallion. It made him shiver with pleasure, made his heart beat so fast and loud, that for a moment he was afraid, Jaskier might hear it. But he did not. He was human, after all.

Slowly, the bard let his hand slide down Geralt’s chest, making the witcher’s skin tingle. Gods, he couldn’t allow that to happen again! A single touch from Jaskier made him weak in the knees and light in his head.

But the bard didn’t notice any of that. He was too focused on his hand, which he slowly opened and closed as if the medallion _had_ burned him. ‘What am I then?’

‘You’re human. But…’ Geralt stopped himself. He couldn’t tell him. At least, not all of it, not the terrible truth. ‘Yen and I have a working theory.’

‘Oh!’ The bard backed away, his face a mask of pure indignation. ‘Oh, you have a working theory on me, the two of you! What am I? A rat in a maze? Have you been observing me, comparing notes ever so often? Tell me, Geralt, am I an interesting specimen? Do I satisfy your curiosity?’

‘Jaskier…’

‘Don’t _Jaskier_ me!’

Geralt helplessly opened his palms to the sky. ‘Yen only suggested yesterday that you might have aged a little bit too well.’

The bard calmed down a bit, but was still on the fence. ‘So, what is it? Your working theory?’ He overemphasised the last two words, while he put them in theatrical air quotes.

Geralt clenched his jaw and curled his hands into fists. Was there even the slightest chance Jaskier wouldn’t actually mind, if he knew? Probably not. Because now, there was no way of telling him that he had fallen in love with him, without admitting that he had been quietly pining for about twenty years, give or take. Not that he himself had known it that long. He only just realised about fifteen years back. Still, fifteen years of being secretly in love with someone and not moving on at some point might come off as slightly weird. Apart from the fact, of course, that a witcher – no, a _butcher_ – being in love with someone as beautiful and kind as Jaskier was an abomination.

‘Well?’

‘We believe that some of my magic has rubbed off on you.’ He settled on that. It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth. ‘We have spent so much time together, shared so many experiences… Apparently, something like this can happen to mages and humans, so it also might work with witchers. You soak up my magic and it prolongs your life.’

Jaskier pouted sceptically. ‘Huh.’ He sounded unimpressed. ‘To be honest, I would have expected something more epic. Something tragic or poetic, something mysterious. This sounds… logical, I suppose. In a way.’

‘You seem disappointed that you’re not a monster.’

‘No, no. Not disappointed, no. Although, a bit, maybe, yes.’

Geralt bowed his head and smiled to himself. _Idiot_ , he thought, _precious little idiot._

  
  


Jaskier didn’t sleep. He had travelled long enough with Geralt to know when the witcher was hiding something and he definitely was. So maybe he wasn’t a monster, but then again, maybe Geralt just wanted to spare his feelings. Unlikely, but possible. He tossed and turned underneath his fur and couldn’t stop his brain from thinking through a million possibilities, but there was only one conclusion: Something wasn’t right with him and Geralt and Yen had an idea what it was. And if Geralt wasn’t willing to tell him the whole truth, well, he would have to take desperate measures.

Without a sound he rose from his blanket. Or so he believed.

‘Where are you going?’

The gruff voice didn’t even sound the tiniest bit sleepy. So Geralt hadn’t gotten any shut-eye either. Not suspicious at all.

‘What are you, my nanny?’

‘Hmm.’

‘I have to tinkle, if you must know. Now, excuse me.’

He slipped away into the bushes before Geralt could try to stop him, circled the camp and made his way to Yennefer’s tent. The witcher had probably heard every single one of his movements, but what did he care? He was a grown man, he could go wherever he liked, even if it was into the den of the most dangerous women he knew.

He found Yen sitting at an actual desk, perched in a high wooden chair, writing. He blinked at the expanse of her quarters.

‘Modest.’

‘What do you want, little lark?’

‘Makes you wonder why we made camp, if none of us actually sleep,’ he mumbled. When he noticed that he was already trying Yen’s naturally scarce patience, he nervously cleared his throat. ‘Right, to the point. So. I need your opinion. I was talking to Geralt earlier and he… he told me.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yeah. He didn’t want to, I think, but he did.’

Yen sighed in relief and dropped her quill. ‘Thank the gods. This whole repression thing of his is honestly getting old. So, what now? Pardon the indiscretion, but I’m curious.’

Jaskier licked his lips. ‘I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

‘You don’t know? Geralt just confessed that he has been in love with you for twenty years and you _don’t know_?’

Jaskier froze where he stood. _He what now? He fucking what?_

Yen quickly realised his confusion and sprang to her feet. ‘Shit! Oh, shit, he didn’t, did he? You tricked me, you wretched little creature! Oh, he’ll loose it, he absolutely will. You cannot tell him I told you, understood? I’ll turn you into an ugly, fat toad if you even so much as insinuate…’

Jaskier let her rant, her words didn’t really register with him. Everything after _Geralt has been in love with you for twenty years_ had suddenly lost its meaning. Twenty years? Who even could keep feelings hidden for that long? Jaskier hardly managed twenty seconds when something tickled him. But then again, this was Geralt. Of course, if one person on this whole fucking continent could keep an unrequited crush secret for twenty _fucking_ years, it was him.

‘Jaskier? Jaskier!’

He startled when Yen’s voice finally pulled him out of his shock.

‘But… but witchers don’t…’ he stuttered feebly.

‘Don’t feel? You still believe that bullshit?’

How could he, after everything they’d been through together? He just didn’t know what to do or say or even think. Geralt? In love? With him? It seemed so utterly, so unbelievably absurd.

He silently shook his head and Yen sighed. ‘You can believe me, little lark. Not only is he in love with you, his love is so strong that it created a bond between your souls, thereby making it possible for his magic to prolong your life.’

This was getting more ridiculous by the second. A soul bond? Jaskier was beginning to feel light-headed and grinned stupidly. ‘Well, that’s more like it, to be honest. Properly romantic and all.’

‘You’re not making sense.’

He laughed, hysterically almost. ‘None of this makes sense, Yen! Why would someone like Geralt fall in love with me? He is so, so far out of my league, he shouldn’t even see me from up there.’

Yen snorted. ‘Yes, well. I’m sure he thinks the same about you.’

‘I don’t understand…’

‘Believe me, neither do I.’ She sat down again and leaned back with a sigh. ‘That was a lie. I do. Apart from his witcher brothers, you are the only person with whom he can actually be himself. You have never judged him, never hurt him and you stand by his side, no matter what. Why wouldn’t he be in love with you?’

‘Thanks.’ Jaskier shuffled around awkwardly. ‘That’s actually really kind of you to say.’

She huffed. ‘You sound surprised. The thing is, I care about Geralt. We had our differences and maybe we’re not good for each other, but I care about him. And so do you. It’s the one thing we have in common and if we can use that to make him happy, we should. So, little lark.’ She raised her chin defiantly. ‘What exactly do you feel for him?’

  
  


_What exactly do you feel for him?_ The question floated around and around his head as he made his way back to his blanket. He sat down and put his fur around his shoulders. What did he feel? How should he know? He hadn’t thought about their relationship in terms like this until now. Geralt feeling anything other for him than friendship had never even occurred to him.

The witcher was buried under his own fur, just a couple of feet away, back turned towards Jaskier. He breathed steadily, but was not asleep. The bard watched him pretending and smiled to himself. Stupid man, thinking he could fool Jaskier after all those years. Stupid and repressed and gorgeous and kind and _in love with him_. A deep fondness suddenly swelled in his heart. Now that being in love with Geralt had so unexpectedly become an option, now that he finally worked through everything Yen had said, his whole body began to tremble. His heart pumped excitedly and he sensed how his cheeks blushed deep red. Suddenly he felt giddy.

Wait! Had _he_ repressed those feelings for twenty years? Was that the reason why some time after meeting Geralt all his romantic conquests had started to feel a bit stale, like something was missing? Were these feelings the reason why he had despised Yen so very much while she had still held Geralt in her thrall? He shook his head at himself as the he slowly put the pieces together. Gods, he had been oblivious. Those butterflies in his stomach told him all he needed to know.

But Geralt… Geralt had actually known. Geralt had suffered through all those years and had never said a word. His giddiness receded a bit. Intuitively, he reached out to touch the witcher’s hair.

‘Touch me and you’ll lose fingers.’

‘Knew you weren’t sleeping.’

He drew his hand back. How on earth should he broach the subject? Because broach it he would. He wasn’t Geralt. Knowingly carrying all this love in his heart, that had built up over decades, made him feel like he was about to explode. He couldn’t keep that inside, not even till morning.

Geralt threw himself around on his blanket so he was facing Jaskier. ‘You went to see Yen.’

‘No.’

‘Liar.’ He looked him up and down. ‘Why are you grinning like an idiot?’

Jaskier couldn’t help it, all the love needed somewhere to go. He relaxed his face and breathed in deeply to calm his heart that was about to beat its way out if his chest.

Geralt sat up and frowned. ‘Are you alright? Has she poisoned you? Your heart rate seems unhealthy for a human.’

‘You can hear it?’

‘Always.’

Silence hung between them, while Jaskier still figured out what to say. Maybe the truth would be a good starting point.

‘I have been to see Yen.’

‘I know.’

‘She told me.’

Geralt’s face went white as a sheet, his jaw clenched, his nostrils flared.

‘She didn’t mean to!’ Jaskier hastily assured him. ‘It just happened. But I’m really glad it did.’

Without a word the witcher rose, but the bard hastily grabbed his arm and pulled as hard as he could.

‘Don’t you dare run away from me!’

Geralt startled, then tore himself free. Only after a moment of consideration he obeyed and sat down on his blanket again, his eyes avoiding Jaskier’s. In what was meant to be a reassuring gesture the bard reached for his wrist, yet the witcher jerked away. The rejection stung, still, Jaskier accepted this boundary Geralt set. No touch then.

‘So, can we talk about this like grown-ups?’ he tried, but didn’t get an answer. Not that he had actually expected one. ‘Fine, if I have to have this conversation by myself, I will, but you’re not getting out of this.’ He fidgeted nervously, because he didn’t quite know where to start. ‘Good gods, Geralt, twenty years,’ he eventually whispered. ‘And not a single word. Nothing! Why?’

Still no answer.

‘Fine, then let me say this.’ He scooted a bit closer, but didn’t touch. ‘It’s as simple as that: I love you, too, you big oaf.’

This, finally, made Geralt look at him directly, surprise written all over his face.

‘Is that so hard to believe, my darling witcher?’

Did he imagine it or did Geralt actually blush at this casual term of endearment?

‘I didn’t know I was in love, but I do now. And I’d very much like to make you happy, if you’d let me.’

‘Loving each other and being happy with each other is not the same.’ Geralt broke his silence slowly and softly. His eyes flitted over to Yennefer’s tent, then back to Jaskier. ‘Some possibilities are better left untouched.’

Jaskier followed his gaze, then nodded knowingly. ‘You have been hurt. It’s natural to try and avoid…’

‘No,’ Geralt interrupted. ‘ _I_ hurt _her.’_ He bit his lip and looked down at his hands. ‘We have hurt each other, over and over again. I don’t want to hurt you, too.’

Ironically enough, Jaskier felt his heart break. ‘Oh, my dear wolf,’ he muttered. He leaned forward a bit more. ‘Hurt is part of love, but that doesn’t mean that the bad always overpowers the good. I believe we could work very well together, if you gave us a chance. At least it seems that we’d have all the time in the world to figure things out.’

Geralt smiled weakly. ‘You’re not mad that I condemned you to centuries by my side?’

‘Mad? Geralt, there’s nothing I could look forward to more. You know me, I have always been sad that life and its pleasures must end so soon. Besides…’ He smiled softly. ‘It’s not like you did it on purpose. Also, I could walk away if I wanted to and I really, really don’t.’

Their faces were close now, so close that Jaskier could feel Geralt’s breath on his neck. ‘Please, can I…’ He raised his hand a little bit. Geralt searched his eyes and then, after a moment of almost backing away, he finally nodded. Ever so gently, Jaskier put his hand to his cheek and the witcher immediately leaned into it. With a quiet sigh he closed his eyes and Jaskier could feel him shake a little under his touch.

‘Geralt,’ he whispered. ‘How long has it been since anyone touched you like this?’

The witcher opened his eyes to catch his gaze. ‘A while.’ He hesitated as if debating with himself whether to say what was on his mind or not. ‘It’s why I wouldn’t let you touch me. I was afraid, I’d fall apart.’

Jaskier teared up. Gods, this man and his sick need to be in control of himself constantly. He raised his other hand to cup Geralt’s face and stroked his thumbs over his cheeks. ‘It’s okay to fall apart sometimes,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be here to catch you.’

The witcher leaned into him to let their foreheads touch. ‘Jaskier,’ he sighed. ‘I didn’t think you could ever want this.’

‘Oh, but I do. In fact, I’d very much like to kiss you, if you…’

The bard couldn’t even finish his sentence, before he felt chapped lips pressed on his. Hands grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer and he felt so much at once, he felt like his body couldn’t contain it anymore and he had to melt into that chest that was flush against his now. A tongue slipped into his mouth, hot and urgent. Gods, Jaskier felt like he was transcending his human form, as the built up tension of twenty years exploded between them.

Suddenly, there was soft fur at the back of his neck and he realised that Geralt had pushed him down and was sitting on his lap, the kiss now slowing down somewhat after the initial explosion of pent-up desires. Their lips and tongues moved languidly against each other and Jaskier let out a content moan.

Geralt backed up a bit, worry on his flushed face. ‘Are you alright? Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?’

The bard smiled at him. ‘My dearest darling witcher… Don’t you dare stop.’

So Geralt dove back in and made their ridiculously long wait absolutely worth it.

When Yennefer stepped outside of her tent the next morning, she found her two travel companions bundled up under the same fur, completely entangled in each other.

She huffed.

Idiots, the both of them, but idiots in love at last.

  
  



End file.
